Hermit Shack: A Jericho Book

By T. F. Platt

The epicenter of the story takes place in southern rural Michigan. Some Cub Scouts discovered human bones in a gravel pit. The team of Sheriff Wayne Puller, Deputy Jack Trip and Sergeant Detective Fanny Gillespie is augmented by Kent County Deputy Clydis Groner and Deputies Edith and Harold James along with Platt family children and other family members. Their old dog named Sniffer manages to uncover many of the clues that help resolve the mystery.
Although fiction, the story is set into events of actual history including the war in Viet Nam and beginning of foreign oil importing by the United States. One character is Uncle Helio Outhe, an Athabascan Indian truck driver from Alaska who makes a stand favoring the use of our own oil and of the Alaskan pipeline. Helio with his wife Anna Mae [Groner] Outhe participates with others of the family in softening Grandmas pain over the recent loss of Clarence, her beloved husband. The huge white Outhe camper pulled by a Mack truck was designed in part to give Grandma competing thoughts to occupy her mind. The camper hauled the Michigan deputies on an adventure into Indiana, Ohio, and Kentucky in quest of clues to resolve not only the murder but also to include historical stops to enjoy Annie Oakley, John Dillinger, and Big Foot. A Big Foot hunt in company with real mountain men provides humor and adventure eventually culminating in Mr. General being handcuffed to his potbelly stove due to his unfortunate grasp of Grandma out in the Big Foot woods.
Along the way traveled by the camper or a squad car the deputies discover some history of the Wabash Cannonball and of Amtrak and of a baby carriage dating from 1905. The carriage is restored in time to become a prize possession of an adopted three-year-old maiden with a happy face and a stack of golden curls. In another adventure encountered while on trip carrying the bones previously found by the Cub Scouts in the gravel pit, a group of deputies encounter a lady picking dewberries and she tells them of a mad Yankee, not a Big Foot, that burned their revival tent.
Home finally to Leadford, Michigan, granddaughter Hulda Sunshine James in taking her turn caring for Grandma is awakened to find Grandma scalded by coffee in an eerie darkened kitchen with the blue flame of the oil burner ghosting hotly the steam wreathing the prone figure of Grandma on the floor screaming for God to let her see Clarence. Hulda soon found that her Grandmad been awakened before dawn by a hungry Robin. That darned old Robin, Hulda exclaimed. Im going to get up early tomorrow and tend to that bird. Meanwhile back in Manitou Prairie Nathan and Luisa Platt had found their way into the Hermit Shack venue seeking the last clues in resolution of the Hermit Shack mystery. In the distance they hear the siren of Detective Sergeant Fannys ornate police cruiser cracking the evening air on a streak toward the Platt couple standing with pounding hearts out at the Hermit Shack.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456733506

T. F. Platt

In grade six my teacher asked us to write a story with the topic being of our own choice. I was frightened later when she selected me to read my story to my school mates. They kept laughing and I stopped to get them to quit but when I began again the laughter resumed. Finally, I surmised that even the eighth graders were enjoying my story. Later in The Three Door Dodge book I was able to include a bit of that story along with several other I had written. I've been writing about all of my life, but the hard way - via typewriter, literary agents, and waiting and rewriting. I achieved little success except for an occasional blip in a magazine and of a serving eleven years as the editor of a annual science honorary magazine. I've published numerous scientific articles and for a time I published articles in a weekly enterainment magazine where I explained some serious science made enjoyable by humor. Computers and self publishing have made it possible for me to publish novels. To date I've written nine novels.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

About The Author

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to thank family members and friends; notably Rena Baker, Michael Baker, Buck Platt, Helen Platt, Violet Robinson, Jim Robinson, Peggy Schneider, Kathleen Heimendinger, and Bessie Morehouse who have read one or more of the Jericho Books prior to publication. Their comments have been helpful and appreciated.

For the original idea of Hermit Shack and the book title of Hermit Shack, the author owes his son, Marvin, who wrote the original story for a writing competition while in junior high school

Introduction

As in all books of the Jericho series, Hermit Shack is fiction. The characters of the books are fiction written in honor of the author’s grandfather, Clarence Groner, and the author’s mother, Edith Marie Groner Platt, and their descendents. The geography used in the books is similar to that of the communities in Michigan where Clarence Groner and Edith Marie Groner Platt and T.F. Platt, and others of the Groner and Platt families, resided and toiled through much of their lives. The books aren’t in any sense biographical, although the real Clarence and Edith for a time lived on a road called Jericho Road and Clarence did work briefly in a paper mill nearby.

Jericho Books written to include events from 1944 through 1971 cover a time frame wherein characters in the book could be based upon the author or upon persons of the author’s actual acquaintance. In Hermit Shack some readers may see a bit of themselves in an otherwise fictional character. One such AKA character is T. F. Platt and what that character does in the story is somewhat in line with actual events of the author.

Hermit Shack opens in 1971. Nathan and Luisa Platt and their four children are visited by Aunt Edith, Uncle Harold, and Grandma Clydis. Uncle Harold decided to show Professor Nathan Platt a pair of human bones found in a gravel pit near Manitou Prairie, Michigan. A hunt ensued for a murderer. Family members and friends pitched in to help. Along the way they hear gruesome tales of an abominable snowman and wonder if it isn’t really a wild human beast that would willfully dispatch a foe for food, for liquor, for fear, or for vengeance. Tracking the abominable becomes part of the hunt for the big hermit.

Along the way youthful romance buds, reminding adults of how suddenly a childhood may end.

Hermit Shack is the tenth of the Jericho Books by T. F. Platt. The Jericho stories are intended for adults and young adults. The stories do not include explicit interpersonal interactions and they omit profanity.

Chapter One

Miah Platt studied the railroad station wall clock for the umpteenth time, deciding again that it wasn’t running, that it had at last stopped. The Amtrak schedule chalked on a black board beneath the clock insisted that the westbound Amtrak diesel was due in at 6:05 a. m., and chalked next to the time, the statement, on time punctuated the promise. From his hard oaken bench he could see no more than could anyone else as the waiting room offered no view of the rails or the trains. His mother Luisa sat quietly reading a precious issue of the Saturday Evening Post. The Post was slated for demise, ceasing publication after a run of 145 years, and she was reading to miss not a single word. He’d not seen her eyes visit the wall clock or the chalked on schedule board even once during the endless hour and more he’d flustered. Seeing her with the Post prompted his mind’s eye to again review scenes from his clandestine issue of Penthouse, a new magazine just beginning its run, that a friend’d passed to him at the recent ‘School’s Out’ picnic. His thinking caused a silly grin to crease his cheeks.

Is the train on time?

His head jerked.

Someone had awakened the sleepy stationmaster to ask the very question that jumped around in Miah’s mind in competition with his scenes of Penthouse. Yes, the stationmaster’d replied, but Miah knew that reply only assured that one more Jackson, Michigan train station denizen now sat upon hard oak and fretted whether the wall clock was at all running. That sorry denizen likely would ponder with him whether a rail passenger service just starting that March of 1971 could be reliably on time. Then: Oh, wow, what’s this? His mind’d popped like a firecracker!

The stationmaster’d just unlocked the double doors to the passenger apron!

Two big steps carried him to that now open portal to the action scene. In that doorway he collided with his mother who had the Post tucked under an arm and was rushing with her head twisted eastward with an ear cocked to catch that first decibel of Amtrak rumble. Jostled from behind by the newcomer, he clambered on past his Mom and then he too faced the huge eastern glow of the sun on its climb to best the horizon. Quickly, like his Mom, a hand came up to shade his eyes from old sol’s awakening. They waited on tiptoe for a first glimpse of the burry-sounding monster.

Burrrrr! Burrrr! They could hear the Claxton’s brassy Burrrr! from out around a bend in the rails. The thrilling beast blasted into view and then it tore past them, seeming way too fast to be stopping, but then miraculously, it stopped with the passenger coach doors abreast the apron. A black suited conductor carrying a yellow-colored step stool stepped down, turned, and placed the stool next to the doorway from the coach. Grandma Clydis Groner appeared in the doorway. Guided by the conductor and by Uncle Harold’s strong hands, Grandma stood from the train. Uncle Harold reached bags that were pushed into view by Aunt Edith. He helped Aunt Edith negotiate the stool. Hugs and back pats came next.

Jeremiah, how you’ve grown.

Twelve now, or is it thirteen?

Twelve. He was proud to hear his voice’d pitched low for his reply. Carrying one of the bags, he walked along with Uncle Harold James. We brought our ’68 Pontiac station wagon, so there’s room.

Great, I’ll ride with you in the rumble seat.

They put Grandma into the passenger seat up front. Half or better of the rear seat was taken up by the bags. Aunt Edith and Luisa smiled in at Uncle Harold and Miah. Each lap of the pair held a bag. Watch your head. Luisa lowered the rear hatch. Instantly Harold and Miah were in a tiny world of their own, and able to view scenery the others just passed. The train station grew smaller as they pulled away.

How were the sky scrapers?

"You know, the most fun was to re-visit the Woolworth’s Building. It opened in 1913 and your Aunt Edith actually became friends with a lady who had a daughter who worked there in Woolworth’s. Then while I was in World War I, Edith and her grandparents visited the building with that friend of Edith’s. My turn came in 1923 when Edith and I were there on honeymoon. It’s only 792 feet tall, but it means a lot to us.

The Empire State Building was spectacular from the outside, a very gracious and elegant structure, and inside we looked out from several observation sites. That thing’s 1250 feet tall. We got off on the 78th floor and on the 79th. It’s hard to imagine that on a Sunday morning in 1945 an American B-25 bomber crashed into the building at just about where we were standing. I shivered even though no sign of the accident was evident. The three in the bomber were killed and down below ten churchgoers were killed; hit by debris we were told. They’re going to build an even taller building, we heard, that’s to be called the World Trade Center. That’ll be taller than the Empire State. In a restaurant we heard there’s likely to be two of those trade center buildings. They’ll be some sight to see one day.

Up front, eighty-four-year-old Grandma Clydis Groner nodded then scrunched in her seat to the tolerance of the seat belt. She fell sweetly asleep. From the rear seat sixty-six year old Aunt Edith James kept running commentary with Luisa at the wheel as well as with Uncle Harold James and Miah to her rear. I’m so thankful for cotton-polyester blends. The next trip I won’t even carry along my steam iron. To her rear, Miah shifted the bag to ease circulation back to his legs. Uncle Harold grinned at him, knowing the bag was Edith’s. How about at Montgomery Wards? Aunt Edith continued. Do they have the cotton-polyesters?

We stock them in all clothing departments, polyester linens, too. I’m glad I get a discount by working there. Very little ironing required.

If you see a McDonald’s ahead, stop. On me. Grandma loves their new apple pies and she needs the energy as you can see.

One in the next town near the college. I’m afraid I can get hooked on the Big Mac. It’s a wonderful new sandwich but I really do not need the calories. Bookkeeping work just doesn’t exhaust the calories. Soon she was slowing for the turn into McDonald’s. Edith reached forward and jostled her mother.

Momma, McDonald’s coming up.

Grandma jerked awake. Praise the Lord, she said, decent food after that train. You’d think they’d have a dining car on the morning’s run. It’s wonderful to have McDonald’s. Did you hear that beef consumption in United States is at 113 pounds per person per year? I’d say that hamburgers are a very big seller, but I’m not up to one today. Order an apple pie treat for me. I’ll wait in the car.

No, come in. They have a restroom.

Leave me in here, Uncle Harold said. At seventy-one he was beginning to admire leisure, that in contrast to aches and cramps should he move from his present roost. Just bring a Big Mac and some cold water.

She heaved up the rear hatch and swung down the tail gate; on the bossy side as usual, No, you get out. You’ll be more crimped yet by the time you ride clear on to and a little beyond Manitou Prairie. She reached the bag from his lap.

There’s a rack atop. Miah hoped his comment might elicit a notion in his aunt. We have some stay-down stretchy cords under this seat.

She heaved her bag containing the steam iron and several million other solid objects off his lap. Seeing the relief on his face, she said. Will you see to it?

Sure. His voice, he could feel it, had dropped several octaves and he with obvious pride of manhood’s blooming, alit beside his Aunt Edith.

My, how you’ve grown, she said. Is a Big Mac and fries what you had in mind? What to drink, malted or cola? She felt his shoulder. Harold, now don’t strain yourself on the bags. Leave the tough stuff to our Miah.

Strawberry malted.

Ditto that, Uncle Harold began crawling from the cramped compartment. But no fries, just a Big Mac and a strawberry malted.

Okay. Dear, now you take it easy. If your heart pitters or patters or whatever it does improperly, s-t-o-p. We don’t want another attack.

Miah’ll take good care of me.

Aunt Edith hurried to catch up with Luisa and Grandma. Miah and Harold looked on, both marveling at the preserved condition of Grandma Clydis. Clydis’d been the living image of Venus de Milo since her teens. Putting on a few pounds during twilight had only emphasized curvaceous grandeur. Aunt Edith was a bit slab-sided but consistently caused a pop-eyed condition in males and caused many a male to instantly squeeze off several inches of waist, to throw back at the shoulders, and to be glad he’d thought to use Dial, apply Bam roll-on, rub in a little dab of Brylcreem and to include a generous splash of Old Spice after-shave. At thirty-three Luisa still held her wholesome teen physique so convincingly that one expected to see bobby socks and saddle shoes gracing her agile gliding feet. Looking after them, Miah studied but a moment before his eye caught a notice posted in the window the ladies approached; ‘3.5 million burgers sold everyday.’ Hunger pangs swept him. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes away; thinking, one Big Mac should do it for me, but a foot did move toward Aunt Edith and his deep voice almost called after her to double his order. He managed a turn in time to see that Uncle Harold was to duty rather than temptation or daydreaming. He was pulling the stretchy tie-down cords from under the seat.

Mom, Aunt, and Grandma soon returned, two of the three taking no notice of the rooftop handiwork creditable to Miah and Harold. Aunt Edith said, My, that’ll hold in a tornado. If they’d had more than the dozen stretchy cords, they’d have tried to install them. The roof looked like a love fest between two gigantic black tarantulas. The ‘men’ grinned at one another as Aunt Edith handed in the provender and closed the tailgate and hatch.

Oldest sister ten-year-old Omi was on the court setting up croquet as the big Pontiac swung into the yard. Naomi, how you’ve grown! That comment served to bring her on the run.

Hi, Aunt Edith. I knew you liked croquet.

You don’t mean Red Ball Edith, do you? I’ve mellowed some but will meet your challenge right after you consume a Big Mac.

Great.

Call Cia and Nic before the ice all melts in the pop. Mom handed the McDonald’s bag to her blond curly-haired oldest daughter.

Nic’s scout master called and is coming to pick him up to go on a rock hunt. He’s putting on his new tennies. Cia’s in the kitchen taking pictures of some birds outside. Grandma Clydis, here, let me carry your purse. The cobble stones aren’t laid even along here; so watch your step.

Smoothest over here. Luisa took grandma’s arm. Nathan left it smoother over here.

Six-year-old Nic charged up with his new tennies gripping like a tree frog’s toes. He snap turned to fall in with Uncle Harold and Miah. Uncle Harold, you can come to find stones.

Uncle Harold walked along with a hand on Nic’s shoulder. Nicodemus, you’ve grown into quite a boy scout.

Cub Scout, he is. That’s even way below Tenderfoot.

Big brother’s do tend to weigh heavy, Uncle Harold said. Why, rock gathering is one of my favorite activities; if your scoutmaster doesn’t mind."

Nic, get in here to eat McDonald’s. Big sisters, Harold thought, can also at times weigh heavy.

Eight-year-old Cia turned from the window as the group entered the kitchen. Phoenicia, are you having any luck? Take a break. We’ve McDonald’s for you kids to eat before the ice all melts in the cola.

I’ve taken up almost the whole roll of Kodachrome, Cia said. My Blue Bird leader says if they’re good enough, she can enlarge them for my album.

That’s a pretty project, Grandma Clydis said. Your Grandpa Clarence always liked the birds. He fed them all those years. Oh, the time we had watching them. One of your Aunt Edith’s first words was ‘bird’. She said, ‘bird, bird.’ Oh, so cute.

How about Delbert and Joe? Did Aunt Edith say?

I can’t recall although I’m sure your Aunt Edith could. It’s like you children, the mom always remembers the early words.

My boys, both Delbert and Joe, began with dada, Aunt Edith said.

Nic said dada before he said mama.

A mother should always expect that and not be upset, and I’m sure your mama recognized that dada is easiest, we think, for a tiny tot to say, Grandma Clydis said. And by the way, we saw Delbert and Pinky and your three cousins in New Jersey when we were visiting light houses. We visited the Sandy Hook light and the Twin Lights. Delbert’s whole family was near Twin Lights swimming in the Atlantic. The five of them were tanned to coppery and your Cousin Pinky would still fit into the bikini she had on back just after the Korean War. That’s when Mr. Rearch invented the bikini and hers was the first any of us had seen. That was sure a shocker. Their Ralph is as tall as his dad now and the girls you’d think were twins. On close look, though, Pam is two inches taller than Rebby.

Grandma, Rebby’s oldest.

And shortest; we all grow to the size God intended, and she’s beautiful as she knows.

How about Uncle Ward and Aunt Doreena and Ron and Skip? Are they both still lifting weights? Is Brandy like a woman?

Oh sure, they want the physique of their dad. Your Uncle Ward, though, developed his way without any special effort. He held the envy of boys and girls alike. Doreena chuckles that her boys work so hard at training; but she’s very proud of them, too. And their older sister Brandy is a grown up lady and has begun working at Wolverine Shoes. She will learn all about making them before she’s trained in international sales.

Gosh, Brandy’ll go all over the world. Omi rolled her eyes. And, gosh, she said, she may even marry someone abroad. That would be too bad in a way because I know Emma planned on sitting her children.

Her children? Now, hold on, dear, Brandy isn’t even betrothed to anyone, yet. Even if Emma is the oldest daughter of Cousin Joe and Parrot, what’s Emma thinking about?

Cousin Emma said that seeing as how she cared so much for baby Ardene while her mother worked payroll at the Wolverine shoe factory, she looked forward to baby sitting for pay and Hulda was the next oldest of the cousins but she wouldn’t likely get married real soon and have babies because Aunt Edith told Momma that Hulda’s going for a PhD.

Why, that Hulda, Grandma Clydis turned to eye Aunt Edith. Edith why didn’t you say your youngest would stay in college?

I will, Momma, but I’ve just heard so little so far so I’ve waited.

Oh, Omi, I see your point now about Emma’s baby sitting. And, girls, did you know that Robert and Clarence are already dating girls? Your Uncle Joe and Aunt Parrot are feeling like old folks, they said when last I visited there. Little Edith is attending Bible School for her first time this year. And you should see their youngest, my namesake, little Clydis. Oh, such a pretty little tyke.

Just like you, Grandma, at that age, huh?

Oh, I’m sure, Grandma joked. I’m glad cameras weren’t too common back in those days.

Aunt Satin and Uncle Jim moved so far north. Do you see them often?

Thank goodness for the annual family reunion. I’m so glad to see all of you youngsters, even the youngsters that are now middle aged. Remind your folks always to come. But, wonderfully, besides reunion, Satin and Jim did visit us a time back and also they were at Grandpa’s funeral. They had Daphne, Melody, and Ramey with them. I said who’s minding the others and your Aunt Satin said, ‘Nobody, gosh Grandma, our baby Samuel is eleven, didn’t you know. Mag, May, and Janet are helping at their church day camp over along the Muskegon River. Samuel’s on a hike with his scout group.

While Aunt Edith and Grandma Clydis continued their visit with the girls and Nic around the table, Luisa had gone to the bedroom to change into work clothes. She emerged with a neat dark blue skirt and a flowered cotton-polyester blouse.

I must rush away, she said. I’ve bean counting to do in the cash office at Montgomery Wards. Nathan should be home any minute. His summer classes only go until noon.

Aunt Edith, Omi said, it’s time we tried the croquet court.

Grandma Clydis ignored Omi and Edith’s choice of croquet. She turned to Cia: Phoenicia, do you have some bird pictures for me to see? Through the years, your grandfather and I learned to name all of them that came to the feeders.

Sure, I’m supposed to learn all of them for my project.

Well, I’m off to help mow at Lakeview cemetery, Miah said.

Uncle Harold, my scoutmaster just drove in.

***

Tiny heads bobbed and waving arms fluttered from the windows of Mr. Merit’s Ford Bronco. A boy named Alvin Beach cuddled to the scoutmaster to make room for Uncle Harold. Nic sat on Uncle Harold’s knee and had one leg pressed to his friend and an arm rested across the seat behind him. Leaning across Alvin, Nic’s high voice pealed a decibel above his squeaky fellow Cub Scouts to say, Mr. Merit, this is my Uncle Harold.

Blyth Merit nodded and returned Harold’s grin and nod. Less than a mile farther south along Peach Road, the Bronco cleaved into the Digger Marl’s yard, and on through his yard to follow a dirt two-track another fifty yards to arrive onto the loading area of Digger’s gravel pit.

Boys, as you know, Manitou County Michigan is an ideal place to find a great many different types of stone. Who can tell me why that is true?

Amid the giggles and squeaks a tiny voice levered forth the words, The glacier.

Correct, Lars. Lars, you may hand out these plastic bags. Lars hopped to the assignment. In each bag, boys, is a card. Write your name on the card then leave the card in the bag. Mr. James has a pencil you may borrow if needed.

Harold’s hand shot to his shirt pocket. Sure enough, he said. Several of the larruping cubbies needed to borrow his Ever-Sharp mechanical pencil.

Now, to the pit, men.

The reason the boys were wearing old clothes instead of the beautiful decorative yellow scarves and dark blue Cub Scout uniforms and the cute yellow cap was immediately obvious. The boys attacked the wall of the pit like thunder bolts bent upon perpetrating an avalanche. Their ambition was to scale the wall to their highest before tumbling back down amid dust, dirt, and a hail of stones of myriad size and description. On the floor of the pit, at a safe distance, Harold and Blyth began picking stones, placing them into little piles of similar types. Finally the exhausted sweaty cubbies came away from the wall, each with several stones, each of the stones with a dissimilar morphology. Gather here, boys.

They formed a jagged line of constantly wiggling rag muffins. Mr. James has a list of stone types for each of you. Identify your stones as to type, check each type off your list. Keep your stones and your list in your own plastic bag. Ask Mr. James or me if you need help.

It seemed a matter of seconds before the squirming cupids had finished their collections, except for tiny Alvin Beach. Uncle Merit is this sedimentary?

Mr. Merit turned the stone around and around in his hand. Gosh, Alvin, I don’t know. He passed the stone to Mr. James.

My guess is that it’s not stone, boys. Some kind of bone, I will say.

An old bone, is that a fossil?

No, so it wouldn’t be kept with your stone collection. Alvin, may I keep it? I’ll trade a geode for it. He held the geode for all to see."

Geode, sure! What is it?

In the brief moment the boys were silently in wait of his answer, Mr. James said, Sedimentary, a stone with mineral crystals formed inside.

Alvin stood proudly with his serendipity. The others tore back to the wall of the pit. Dust rolled. Harold began a frantic search for another boy stopping stone.

Hey, I got one! The voice echoed from the wall of the